Couldn't ever bring myself to hate you as i'd like
by mysticpotion
Summary: What House was really feeling at the end of season seven. His thoughts about Wilson and Cuddy and some of the recent events in his life.This story links to my other story "leave a tender moment alone"But both can be read seperately slash rated M in case


"My work is meant to force the audience to break with the rational and see things in a new way." [Season Seven]...

Hi Everyone! Haven't written for a while so be as gentle as you can be with me! Got this idea when looking at the show recaps. It's a bit different to what I normally write, it's definitely angst ridden and emotional but since it's meant to be the personal thoughts of House at the end of season seven I hope I can be forgiven!

**I couldn't ever bring myself to hate you as I'd like.**

**Wilson**_: "What just happened?"_

**House**_: "Get out... "Get out!" _

I hadn't originally planned to turn the car around. When I told him to leave the car, I just needed to get as far away from him as possible. I needed to put distance between us, through fear of blurting everything I had been feeling out and in full view of Cuddy's house. I couldn't do it like that. Me telling him, him violently rejecting my words and Cuddy standing on her lawn watching it with her guests, like some dream sequence that she would eventually wake from. No it would break me. It could break all of us. The minute he shut the door I took my chance. I sped off and I'd have kept going if his words weren't still playing over and over in my mind.

**Wilson**_: "House, what are you mad about? Just let it out, you'll feel better."_

If he only knew, would he be as quick to wish that I bring my feelings to the surface? If he knew how much I had tried in the last couple of decades, years, months, weeks, days, hour's, minutes and seconds to convince myself that I felt nothing meaningful for him and that I didn't need him desperately. That he wasn't the sole reason I was still here. I defiantly tried and failed to tell him this a day earlier:

**House**_: "OK, maybe I am trying to numb myself a little. Because I'm trying to change. Trying to stop being self-destructive."_

**Wilson**_:"I don't know how many times I can watch you cut off pieces of yourself. You're miserable, and you're angry. And I want you to actually deal with that. And not just try to medicate the issue away."_

**House**_: "You know what I feel right now? I don't feel miserable or angry. I don't feel good or bad. I feel __**nothing**__. Which feels great."_

I knew in my heart he had no idea it was him and not Cuddy or my past that was the source of all this pent up restrained and strained emotion bubbling angrily under my surface. He had wrongly and selfishly assumed he knew the source, just like Cuddy had, even although I told her she was wrong. Even although I told her it had been a bad reason for hurting my leg, I said it in a way that I thought she'd understand had meant it wasn't a reason linked directly to her. However her arrogance and vanity dismissed it immediately.

**House**_: "You think I have unresolved issues, and __**you**__ are the unresolved issues"._

**Cuddy**_: "House! Talk to me!"_

**House**_: "You want to know how I feel! I feel hurt,"_

**Cuddy**_: "I know. I'm sorry."_

**House**_: "It's not __**your**__ fault."_

She says all these words and yet she doesn't see past them to the truth, no one ever does.

**Cuddy**_: "All you've done is pull pranks or have temper tantrums with __**Wilson**__ - never me_

Their conclusions were both utterly laughable in my eyes. Their failure to identify the facts about someone they had both professed to care for and know deeply and intimately was crushing me to pieces inside. It was his failure to notice though that was killing me more. If he only knew that these last few years I had been realising the most soul destroying truths about our complex relationship. If he only knew how much in the last few hours I was forcing my mind to breaking point in order to convince myself that I didn't need him to look after me or save me like he'd tried to do all those times before. That I wasn't like Hamidi, I wasn't as pathetic as her. I didn't tear pieces from myself merely to get an emotive reaction from him or just to be noticed and cared for by someone who ordinarily wouldn't want me or would tire of me eventually. If only he knew that I had been deluding myself into thinking I was my own person, with my own intelligent mind capable of making my own decisions, like he wasn't there in every thought and action I had taken since we met and I had fallen in love with him. If he only knew that I was pleading with myself to believe that I would never fold and then fall again and again for him, in this unrequited love life we shared. A life he had chose to walk in and out of continuously throughout the years, all the while, while I remained stagnant and waiting nervously on the sidelines for him to return. It was the ongoing frustration that this caused, coupled with me seeing myself and Wilson reflected in Hamidi and Luca's relationship, which was causing me to go into reckless emotional meltdown this time.

**House**: _"You made a decision,"_

**Hamidi**: _"There are more important things than -"_

**House**_**:**__ "Than what? Your brain? Your abilities? It's where __**everything**__ comes from! Any meaning in your life! Any happiness! He's already __**left once**__ - he's going to __**leave you again**__. You don't need to __**depend on**__ people who're going to __**let you down**__. If you do this, you're a __**pathetic hypocrite**__! You're saying that your whole life, up until __**him**__, was a __**pointless**__ -" _

**Hamidi**_: "Why are you doing this?"_

I called Hamidi a pathetic hypocrite but it was really me I was screaming it at. I scared her; I was scaring myself more. She wanted to know why I was doing it. I wasn't even speaking to her, I never was. It was always him I was calling to .Always. If he only knew the disgusting and spineless truths that I now knew, yet I hope I never have to admit them to him. That I lay in that bath, never thinking that how I ended up there was all to do with saving my leg but rather more to do with only thinking of him. Only thinking that if he found me and if he saw another cry for help, then he'd be forced to have to try and rescue me again. He'd be forced to live with me again. Then I could try once more to make him see what he was always failing to. He was the first person I phoned as I lay in that bath. The only person I had wanted to phone. He never answered. Once again he wasn't there when I really needed him and he didn't even know it. If he only knew how the sudden realisations through my patient meant that I could see her as me. She had her mind and yet she told herself she was nothing without Luca and that he ultimately defined her. She told herself that Luca was more important than anything else in existence, even if the cold reality of everything meant she couldn't trust in him to always be there or want to be there when she needed him most. She'd always take Luca back though, even if the hurt had already been inadvertently caused. She had made a statement to the world which was that she had nothing without him. She was nothing without him. I was both jealous of her courage in admitting it and livid. How dare Luca. How dare he have so much control over one person and their heart, to the point where all rational thought subsides and in its place lands blind desperation, recklessness and fear? And how dare Wilson do it to me and not even realise it.

When I was deemed unfit to be alone after Mayfield, he had been made to take me in and yet I felt like he began to truly want me until Sam came back and I was discarded once more. Cuddy had begged him to keep a hold of me, even although he hadn't wanted to keep me willingly. He was even paying the team to keep me away from him and Sam. That knifed me in the heart. It was clear that he didn't want me in the ways I was beginning to realise that I wanted him, ways I think his wife's had always been receptive to, even if I had not. It was also bitterly clear that he hadn't completely forgiven me for Amber's death. I was convinced he saw me as a danger to Sam. He failed to notice I was simply a danger to myself, within that moment in time at least.

Nolan hit close to home in our sessions when he began to talk about Wilson more and more. Nolan had talked about me feeling hurt and betrayed by Wilson abandoning me for Sam and had spoken of the case I had taken as a way to avoid my feelings. He also talked about Alvie being a distraction from the person I really wanted to be with. He had been correct though I pretended otherwise. After all, everyone lies. It was just a shame Nolan didn't seem to live by that code. Like everyone else he eventually chose to assume that everything was about me and Cuddy. I had been sure Nolan had begun to realise my romantic feelings for Wilson, which is why I deflected them but I was wrong. I could have told him but then again that's what he gets paid to do not me. In fairness I had thrown him a curve ball to test how much he had really got to understand me in our time together. I led him to believe that my desperation at getting my things back had come from losing a certain book. Cuddy's Grandfathers book to be precise. I was lying again. The truth was I was desperate because I had lost the book Wilson had got me one Christmas. The one he had said reminded him of me. Wilson had retrieved the book he thought I valued more, Cuddy's Grandfathers, as way of apology for rejecting me but his gesture only continued my misery. He was once again being the saviour but not quite getting his role right. It was all about Cuddy to him and Nolan. They had both failed by misunderstanding my cries for help and therefore had both negligently edged me closer to my demise.

Wilson always gave the impression that he was there for me and yet when I really needed him, he hadn't been, just like Luca hadn't with Hamidi. Now after my 'relationship' with Cuddy and my DIY leg surgery, I needed him desperately again, only this time there was no Nolan to encourage him to take me back. This is probably why he hadn't offered in the hospital and just berated me for my actions instead.

**Wilson**_: "You're lucky." _

**House**_: "What are you doing here?"_

**Wilson**_: "You hoping for someone else? Hot nurse, candy striper, someone who doesn't speak English. Someone who doesn't speak Judgmental,"_

**Wilson**_: "You're an ass." _

**House**_: "What? For trying to walk on a freshly mangled leg? Performing surgery on myself? Or thinking I could solve my emotional problems with rat medicine? If you're going to nag, at least have the decency to be specific."_

**Wilson**_: "Listen to me, you can't keep going like this. Something has to change." _

**House**_: "I know,"_

At the time all I could think about was how good it felt having his arms wrapped tightly and securely around me, holding me up and keeping me from falling. He really is completely unconscious of the fact that it's his fault I am spiralling out of control. It's his fault because he isn't in love with me like I am with him. I had tried desperately in my own joking way to draw him out and to get some sense in our time living together, if he had felt anything as powerful as what I had began to really forcefully feel after the situation surrounding Amber. Nothing. The only thing that gave me slight hope had been the Organ. It symbolically defined who he was apparently. If only that were really true. The truth was he defined me. He was my only reason for existing. When Sam came back for second helpings, I could see him falling into the same self loathing pattern again. We are on constant loops we two. I'm the one on the loop of self destruction through mind altering and numbing substance abuse to block him and everything else that's not him out and he's forever thinking love is the solution to everything. The problem though is he never thinks it might be in accepting my love that the solution could lie for the both of us. Standing in that hospital room with his arms wrapped around me brought me to finality. I realised it was almost perverse that I was doing these things to get both his attention and affection. I hated myself and him for it. He had demanded I change something and the irony was, he didn't realise that this change had to be between me and him.

I had focused my attention on Cuddy more vehemently because of Wilson. I Saw him with Sam and thought if after everything that had been said and done he didn't get it, then he probably never would and I couldn't tell him, not seriously anyway. Singing wham to him in the middle of the night and telling the neighbours we were gay, was as serious as I would ever get. I half hoped doing Cuddy might get some sort of a rise out of him but instead he was annoyingly supportive of it. I did love Cuddy, I thought she might be the one to help me block this out and stop it. She had become the only person I saw myself having a chance at a proper life with besides him. I was kidding myself. There I was struggling on one occasion to find something that interested us both, struggling to hold the sham together and Wilson glides in and hands me the knowledge that one of my favourite novelists is in the hospital. He knew me inside out. He gets me, always had, always will. He had Cuddy beat and he wasn't even trying. I still love her as a friend. I'm just angry that she thinks everything is about her. I need someone to talk to about the most heart wrenching feelings I've ever had to face and she's so caught up in believing I'm suicidal over her, she wouldn't really hear the truth or believe it, even if I did open up. Then there's James Wilson telling me to let all my emotions out that are consuming me and expecting me to snap and cry on his shoulder about Cuddy or childhood and all I want to really do, when he corners me and he says the words, is punch him hard. I want to cause him as much pain as I'm feeling, as I've inflicted on myself and that I've had to open up to with Nolan. All this pain, simply because I am in love with a man and I happen to need him like nothing else I've ever needed in my miserable life. Its scary loving someone so much that the thought of them not being here anymore far near kills you itself. I meant it when I told him if he died I'd be alone. If he died I'd be nothing. I had to somehow deal with this. The whole situation was terrifying me. I had to either get away from him or I had to tell him. One way or another, this living hell both him and I had created had to end or I would be dead within the year. One way or another, this had to end before it ended me. Even if it meant the end of me and Wilson.

Every time I had been on the brink before, Wilson would bring me back, he'd knock the matches from my hand, he'd ruin my self destruction and yet he couldn't stop it this time. He couldn't because through it all, what he couldn't do was the one thing that would perhaps bring me back completely and save me from myself. He couldn't give me him, all of him, every fibre of himself. I would only ever have a piece of James Wilson and yet I needed his whole heart to bring mines back from the abyss it was gladly whirling towards. When I walked to Cuddy's House and saw her with her friends I didn't snap because she was with another man, I snapped because she could move on and find someone that she truly loved and I knew I couldn't. My heart would always be with the man who sat clueless and waiting patiently for me in the car, the man I knew deep down that I could never tell. I had said if Hamidi wanted to be dead, she would have been dead long ago. So would I, except for him. Not my work, not my mind, not my ability to do well was forcing me each day to breathe existence into myself. He was my life support; he had been keeping me stable and keeping me alive. It was a painful realisation but it was realised none the less.

It's amazing how an eternity can flash through the mind in a millisecond of hazy thoughts. I was snapped back to reality. It was then that I stupidly looked in the mirror and watched as Wilson's puzzled face came into my view, the face I had saw every time I shut my eyes since the first time I saw it 20 odd years ago. I was suddenly as angry as he had been pleading for me to be. Blind rage took over and I swerved the car around. I had put my foot down on the gas as I stared intently at him standing there with confusion in his eyes. In that moment I wanted him to feel real fear like I had done. I wanted him to taste real pain like I had done. Amber? Please! That was nothing to what I was going through. He needed to know that. He needed to feel it to. I accelerated so fast towards him I thought I was going to lose control of the car. It felt thrilling to be so reckless, to not care in that split second whether I lived or died. However even through all my anger I just couldn't bring myself to hate him as I'd have liked. I cared about Wilson living, even if I didn't care about myself anymore. My rational mind seemed to claw its way to the surface of the insanity that was engulfing it, briefly enough for me to jerk the car away from him. However it was not soon enough for me to prevent myself flying into the middle of Cuddy's House, or to prevent him from falling to the ground injured. There were only two thoughts in my petrified mind. Had I killed anyone? Would anyone ever believe me if I admitted to them that in my blind passion I was aiming for Wilson and if they did what would that now mean?

"_I think I just figured out that I'm mortal. That I'm just a bag of cells and waste with an expiration date. I wanted to act out, I wanted him to notice. I even prayed for a different answer this time."_

Sitting in the wreckage of that car I now knew that the answer I sought would never come from James Wilson's lips. He would not forgive me for this and I wasn't sure if I could ever forgive him for snatching my life as his own.

I got out of the car slowly and quickly realised that I hadn't murdered anyone after all. As I turned from the scene relief swept my face. I had total clarity and for the first time in a long time it made me feel something which didn't revolve around him. Hope. Even if I had said it was for sissies, I felt it now. I had to try and remember what it was to live for myself and not for him. To do that I had to give it all up. I had to give Cuddy up. I had to give the hospital up. More importantly, I was ready to try and give him up now. I was ready to move on. I was ready to live.

So I spoke to him for the last time.

**House**_: "You were right, I feel much better."_

**The End. **

Inspiration for the story was A) The House MD recaps on the official website B) I am the resurrection by the Stone Roses


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